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Cold side of the pillow,
marking on my cheek:
loyal in my cold life
so sadness doesn’t seep out
I go to drink
to warm my soul or whatever’s inside: frightened animal.

When I’m cold I’m closed:
someone broke my nose at night,
blood ran through the valleys of my face.
Looking through the mirror
I couldn’t feel a thing:
outside
without meaning.

The pillow’s warming now,
most flip it around.
I want to feel the heat
pass right through my cheek;
flow to ocean dark and swirling
to thaw a self emerging.

Face warm and yearning,
sun and meaning filling everything
and me
with love for everyone:
when I hurt others
I drink spilling meaning so I can sleep.

“Two faces have been shown
in your reductive songs
you want simplicity.
Bipolar binary.
Inside more selves are swimming,
surfacing, it’s never ending.”

I sat watching the leaves
blow in the autumn breeze
thinking of that baby we almost had.

A self created me.
I drink for times when life’s beneath is shown
burbling up, bursting the self I’ve known.

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